


The Art of Music

by TheStarsMissMe



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Egobang - Freeform, Gay Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Polygrumps, ShipGrumps, YouTube, YouTubers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStarsMissMe/pseuds/TheStarsMissMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“M-Mr. Avidan,” the same soft voice from before piped up like a soft field mouse. “Why do you hate Mr. Hanson so much…? What did he do to hurt you so badly like this…?”</p><p>No matter how badly Dan wanted to express to his students his hurt and why he and Arin fought, he didn’t want to be criticized. He earned his respect among his young pupils. Losing all of that would mean losing his joy in his career.</p><p>“I really appreciate all of your concerns,” He spoke finally after what felt like millenniums, “but please, don’t worry about this. This fiasco I have created with Mr. Hanson will be resolved sooner or later.” Dan assured everyone with a pure smile. “Today just unfortunately was not the day.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: "The Loser" - Rush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grouchycouchy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=grouchycouchy).



> WOWOWOW MY FIRST EGOBANG FANFICTION!!!  
> I would like to thank the Game Grumps community for not only enjoying my story but also for being awesome people!  
> I am dedicating this story to @grouchycouchy because this technically was her prompt and I just decided to tweak and write it!
> 
> Thanks again! I hope I can earn my place in the egobang fanfiction community!

            _He’s doing it again…_

            “Alright, class, please pick your Still-Life item and begin sketching. Keep in mind-”

            _He does this every day…! He-_

Arin slammed his pencil down on his paint-stained desk and let out a huff in frustration. “I’m sorry, everyone,” He growled, glaring out the door. “I’ll be right back. I need to have a little _chat_ with Mr. Avidan.”

            Everyone in the room didn’t think twice of their teacher’s outburst, but rather continued humming and talking amongst themselves as their pencils scratched on the paper’s surface in harmony. A tantrum like that was of the norm.

            Every student knew that the art teacher and the choir teacher had battles virtually every day. Both were hired on the spot on the same day, yet no one knew why the two abhorred each other. There had to of been a backstory of their history that caused them to hate each other. The students have investigated this topic on multiple occasions, asking their teacher question upon question as to why the two fine arts instructors never got along. The only feedback they received was either a grunt or a condescending answer that just led with the class resuming as if nothing happened.

            Arin furiously pounded his white-knuckled fist on the closed choir door, then leaned against the parallel wall with his arms folded across his chest, a disgruntled look plastered on his charcoal smudged face.  
The boisterous music that was coming from inside slowly decrescendoed into a hush whisper and heavy shoes clicked on the linoleum floor. The doorknob turned slowly and Arin was greeted with a lazy smirk.

            “Is there a problem, Mr. Hanson?” the choir teacher spoke, leaning on the door frame. He was dressed in a white long sleeved shirt with a black vest on top with jeans and black dress shoes to give off a casual yet professional style. A plethora of eyes were gawking at the art professor, looking like an army of evil minions behind the slender figure.  
            “Yes, yes there is, _Dan_ ,” Arin snarled before standing erect and shoving a finger at his opponent’s chest. “Can you _please_ turn that music down?! My students cannot concentrate on their work with _your_ impractical music blasting!”  
Dan looked down at his fingernails with hooded eyes, yawning as if he wasn’t talking to anyone or had anything better to do. His bushel of curls hung free and touched his broad shoulders. “What?” He responded back, “You don’t like the band, Rush?” He gave a mock display of grief by clutching his heart in despair. “You, sir, are inconceivable! Everyone likes Rush!”  
            “Well I don’t!” The art teacher tapped his foot angrily. His torn sneakers with a mess of different colors splattered on the surface made a soft padding noise compared to Dan’s hard dress shoes. Arin’s stained apron hung loosely on his frame, trying to protect his clothing from any art residue but to no avail. “And how does this correspond with choir music?! Aren’t you suppose to be singing Mozart or something?!”  
             It was Dan’s turn to glare daggers at his counterpart. “My students have requested a break since singing for an hour straight can strain your vocal chords. I always allow a small intermission and they are allowed to listen to whatever they choose. Their choice today was Rush.”  
            “BUT IS IT NECESSARY TO BLARE THAT MUSIC TO THE POINT WHERE IT ECHOS IN MY CLASSROOM?!” Arin barked, his face now a bright tomato red. Dan knew how to push Arin’s buttons; he knew _exactly_ what to do to cause such a brouhaha. His smirk only grew wider as he watched the art teacher fume with resentment.  
            “It was a song dedicated to you,” Mr. Avidan purred, pushing himself off of the door frame. “It’s called ‘The Loser’.” The students behind him all murmured, cupping their hands over their mouth to hide the sound of whispers and brewing rumors.

            Arin blushed and felt flustered. He tucked his arms into one another as if hugging himself from any negative energy. He had nothing to say, not even a witty comeback. He felt deflated, maybe even defeated. He knew that song very well and he knew the meaning behind it. It tugged at his heart strings and made his stomach drop. _So…Dan is still angry with me…_  
            “J-Just…keep it down…” He muttered sharply, turning tightly on his heel and heading back to his classroom.

 

            Silence.

 

            Dan exhaled slowly, letting his long fingers dig through his mess of curls. He turned around nonchalantly and was greeted with many curious eyes. He closed the door behind him and smiled. “Alright, everyone, let’s get ba-”  
            “What was that all about?” One student asked, shooting his hand rapidly in the air.  
            “Oh, it was no-”  
            “And why was ‘The Loser’ dedicated to Mr. Hanson?” A soft voice inquired.  
            “Look, guys, I don’t think tha-”  
            “Did you and Mr. Hanson date at one point?!” Another voice accused. “You had to of, because NO ONE fights like this unless they were together at some point!”  
            “Guys-”  
             One by one, everyone started voicing their opinion. They proclaimed their theories as to why the two professors disputed all the time, bellowed ideas of what Dan should do in order to apologize, and some even blurted that they should just kiss and make up already. The many voices started overwhelming Dan’s mind, his temples beating against his skull like a canon from Tchaikovsky’s _1812 Overture_.

           “PLEASE! ENOUGH!” Dan vociferated, causing the students to jump and recoil in slight fear. The choir master sighed deeply, his eyes glazed over. “I’m sorry everyone. I didn’t mean to yell like that…”  
            “M-Mr. Avidan,” the same soft voice from before piped up like a soft field mouse. “Why do you hate Mr. Hanson so much…? What did he do to hurt you so badly like this…?”

             Dan couldn’t help but let loose a soft chuckle. Out of the many schools he has taught at, this was the only place where he could feel the music and arts wing be a family. Everyone was so tight knit with each other, even the teachers! They all watched out and protected each other. It was normal for these students to voice their concerns when their teachers they look up to were at such a dispute. They just wanted harmony again and all of this fighting was just a dissonant piece of music that made no one happy; there was no chord resolution.

            No matter how badly Dan wanted to express to his students his hurt and why he and Arin fought, he didn’t want to be criticized. He earned his respect among his young pupils. Losing all of that would mean losing his joy in his career.  
            “I really appreciate all of your concerns,” He spoke finally after what felt like millenniums, “but please, don’t worry about this. This fiasco I have created with Mr. Hanson will be resolved sooner or later.” Dan assured everyone with a pure smile. “Today just unfortunately was not the day.”  
Clasping his hands together, he bounced back to his good-nature self. “So, let’s talk a bit about music theory and how it can correspond with any piece of music you listen to.”

 

             The class collectively groaned in lament.

 

 

             Arin slumped back to his desk and buried his face in his hands. The student’s noticed their teacher’s state of mind and felt distressed. This was the worst he looked in a long time.  
            It was the same thing every day: Either Mr. Hanson or Mr. Avidan would come storming in the classroom and cause an uproar of hateful speeches and spitting hot words and the students would just sit there and feel helpless. They loved both of these professors with every inch of their beating heart, but they weren’t sure what to do in a situation like this.  
None of them wanted to report the fighting to the principal’s office; they were afraid that if they said something, both teachers would be fired. They tried to intervene when Dan and Arin clashed, but their cries or actions fell upon deaf ears.

           One student got up from their chair and walked to the messy desk. She gently tapped her teacher on the shoulder and then was greeted with sunken eyes.  
            “Mr. Hanson, are you alright?” She asked politely, her own eyes gleaming with worry.  
            “Yeah, I’m okay,” He murmured, putting on a tired smile. “Sometimes fights really wear you out, you know?” He lightly pat her shoulder and beckoned her to take her seat.  
Taking another breath, he stood tall and proud once more. “Okay. How’s everyone doing on their Still-Life?”


	2. Chapter 2: Never listen to the flowers - Maya Gavasheli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY MOLEY FINALLY JEEZ KAT WHY ARE YOU SO LATE WITH CHAPTERS!?

            Spreading sunrise, pinkish glow, clouds tinted, colors spread across the sky announcing the new day, oranges and reds painted across the clouds as if by a celestial hand. Dan was the first few bundles of teachers to arrive at the school. With sunken eyes, he padded his way towards his office.   
            _That green tea is really not waking me up… I should have just bought coffee…_

            Dan unlocked his office door and noticed, perched on his off grey desk, was a mug; its contents steamed within itself. As he walked closer to further examine the drink, he saw that no note was left that exposed who the buyer was.   
With one whiff, he knew it was his favorite – hazelnut latte. With his middle finger and thumb, he spun his swivel chair around and sunk into the cold leather seat, his eyes leering at the lingering beverage. He peered out his wide open door and listened. Hardly anyone was at the school and no-one even looked at or acknowledged Dan. They either passed his office with their eyes glued to their phones or rushed to their own domain with one hand full of stacked papers with juggling a briefcase and coffee in the other. It was still really early so it was no surprise that the commotion around him was little to none.

His gaze was back to being fixated on the coffee. It was a tall and large mug, frothy and still hot. It had a breathtaking flower design wrapped around its ceramic body. The mug itself was a soft lilac and the flowers on top seemed to pop with their vivid contrasting colors. Aquas, yellows, creams, reds, teal, and greens made this mug look like a work of art rather than a kitchen item.  
  
            _I’ve seen this mug before…_ Dan wanted to resist the hot liquid beckoning him until he knew who the giver was, but without a conscious thought it was in his hand and the first milky sip crept over his taste-buds and down his throat. After only a few minutes, he was bathing in the kick of the caffeine. His shoulders slumped and a lazy smile was plastered on his face. The time for finding his benefactor passed and his morning went from sour to sweet.  
With the mug in his hand, he turned to his computer, booting it up to see the agenda for today.

            His heart sank and his expression went blissful to stony. Someone changed his background on his PC from his beloved picture of himself when he met Def Leppard from an old touring show to something that looked like a crude drawing of him.  
It was a digital drawing of Dan but with colossal curling horns that poked through his abundance of curls, the ends a noir black and fading into a bright crimson. The horns coiled around his ears. His skin, gaunt and sickly pale, contrasted against the sooty eyes. The iris was ringed with blood red, wine, and a slight aqua. A studded choker wrapped around the creature’s thick neck, an ugly fanged smile completing the horrifying look.  
It looked like something that would come out of any sane person’s nightmare.

            Underneath the vile demon’s bust, gory letters spelled:

            **_SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO TAKE A STAND_**

            The mug exploded into small fractures on the ground once it hit the floor. The black leather chair shot behind Dan, smashing against the wall behind him.   
With his keys fumbling in his hands, he clumsily stabbed the key in the choir room door and swung the door violently open.

            Small paper cups, filled with water and were once stacked neatly in front of the main door, tumbled over in a domino effect. There had to of been at least two-hundred of them and Dan could only stare in disbelief as he watched the water go and reach the center of the classroom and drip down the walls.  
            “Son of a bi-”

            “Good morning, Mr. Avidan!” A plethora of students greeted with beaming smiles. They walked past the silent teacher before exclaiming in awe at the vandalism before them.  
            “Whoa…! Whose prank was this?!”

            All of the choir chairs and stands were tilted upside down in their neat arch. Not one was sitting in its normal position. Since the choir wing was so large, flipping them all back around would take a good half an hour of class time.  
One of the young pupils pointed at the white board with his thin finger and bellowed, “Hey, Mr. Avidan, look at this!”  
Worry filled his eyes and he scanned the board. What more damage could have been done?!  
The white board was specifically for music and had the staff lines painted on top. In the spaces of the lines, someone stuck a bunch of yellow Post-It sticky notes and spelled out, “YOUR MOVE”.

            The musician clenched his fists to his sides. He was furious at the whole situation. Anger boiled deep within his system, hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and he knew exactly who to take the anger out on. This war was going on for too long and these petty comebacks only prolonged the inevitable.   
The students slowly started pouring into the damp classroom, each of them asking what happened, who did it, and why their professor was so red in the face.  
            “Class,” He growled, causing the soft commotion to cease. “Please if you could, fix all the chairs and stands back to how they are supposed to look. I need to have a small _chat_ with the culprit.”

            Not a single child murmured or whined about the chore at hand. They quietly started picking the chairs back up and placing them back to normal along with the clinking metal stands. One student even ran to the bathroom to grab paper towels and mop up the water that covered almost half of the class. In all of their tiny beating hearts, they knew something bag was going to happen but they were too afraid to try and stop the TNT from detonating.

            The music teacher’s feet heavily stomped on the cold floor, echoing down the long hallway with eyes like lasers ready to splice any living being in half. He tried to keep his composure when passing fellow coworkers and young pupils, but he had a fire burning inside himself that it was too late to be tamed. There was no turning back on the decision he committed to.

 

            “Well, well, well,” Mr. Hanson mused, pursing his lips together as he eyed his enraged counterpart leaning against the door frame. “What can I do for you, _Mr. Avidan_?”  
            Dan did not utter a word, letting his long arms wrap around himself, his fingers digging into his arm. His knuckles were white as fresh fallen snow.  
            “You know, you’re class is going to start in about 30 minutes. You _really_ shouldn’t keep them all waiting.”

  
            Silence.

  
            A smile crept on Arin’s lips. Victoriously. A black hair tie that was resting around his wrist was now in-between his teeth as he fumbled with his cinnamon and blonde hair. Confining his locks into a tight ponytail with a few loose strands, he smirked in his opponent’s direction. With his hands still messing with the elastic band, he flexed his muscles and tightened his core, practically purring when he saw Dan get flustered and florescent red, his eyes ravenously scaling Arin’s exposed midriff. “Wipe your mouth, Mr. Avidan. There’s still a little bit of bullshit around your lips.”

            Every word stung, only fueling the fire that scorched within Dan. Every violated phrase was like gasoline to it, his jaw rooted and fists clenched. When that final Mentos was added to the Coke mixture, he exploded with anger with no control.  
            _“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!”_  
The rambunctious boom of Dan’s voice jarred Arin from his evil flirtatious nature. His words rattled the inside of his center. “W-Wh…What are you talking about…?!”  
            “I’m talking about this, Arin!” Dan let his arm make an exaggerated gesture around himself. “Why can’t you just admit you were wrong?! Why do you keep sucking me back into this after I finally try to let go?!”  
            “I’m not doing anything…! You’re the one who started this whole shitfest! If you-”  
            _“OH DON’T START THAT BULLSHIT WITH ME!”_ The door clattered shut, the room shaking violently along with its scattered art supplies. The air was thick with rigid tension. As the enraged choir teacher took small steps forward, Arin shrunk back. He gasped when his back hit the cold, white brick wall, eyes wide with anxiety.   
With disheveled hair cascading over resentful eyes, Dan’s coarse hand slowly reached for his counterpart’s face. The skittish art teacher recoiled, expecting nothing but brute attacks or harsh words to cut through his body.

            A slight tight grip encased Arin’s chin, forcing him to gaze at Dan. Arin saw many waves of emotion in the musician’s eyes.

            _Sadness…Regret…Anger…Hatred…Spite…_

_…Love…?_

 

            Moistened lips crashed against the stunned art teacher. Dan’s free hand gripped at Arin’s forearm as if to trap him there with no intention of setting him free. Arin froze in disbelief but then succumbed to the familiar touch. His needy hands, still stained from yesterday’s art project, ravenously grabbed at Dan’s clean-cut, long-sleeved white shirt, leaving soft grey streaks and marks.

            Dan’s arms snaked under Arin, locking his arms together as he lifted his former lover on top of a student desk. He clutched quivering legs, bundling them around his waist while his groin pressed roughly against the other’s.  
The kiss grew rougher with each passing second. The music teacher pushed his body and kiss more into his enemy, making Arin lean back on the desk.

            “D-Dan-” Gasps and shuddered moans followed suite when soft butterfly kisses marked Arin’s neck. “D-D-Dan…W-We can’t…the students-”  
            “Shut up,” Dan growled, his teeth grazing soft skin. “What happened before was a fucking mistake.”  
            “P-Please, Dan…If you…y-you would let me explain-”  
            “There’s nothing to explain,” Dan’s gaunt fingers went to Arin’s black buttoned v neck. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his rippling arm muscles. His forearms were speckled with a few beauty spots and Dan remembered every single one of them and where they rested.

            An image of Arin flashed in Dan’s mind. He was covered in hickies that were in an array of random order; hues of purple and blue spotted his skin.

            _His_ markings. None belonging to Dan. Just _his_.

 His ears could still hear his former love’s cries of pleasure, calling out another name in ecstasy. His body was illuminated with the full moon outside, silky sheets tastefully wrapped around his body.

            _His_ body looming over Arin. Not Dan’s. Only _his._

           

“Those markings he gave you…they weren’t mine…”

            Arin’s head, previously stuck on Cloud-Nine, came back down when he heard Dan mutter.  
            “Markings…?”  
            “Those hickies that covered your body. _He_ gave them to you. I can still see them in my mind.”  
            “Dan, Ross and I-”  
            “ _Do not fucking say his name in front of me!_ ”

            Arin recoiled quickly at the sharp tone. His fawn eyes stared deep in murky brown eyes. He was at a loss for words; in those dark eyes somewhere, he still cared for Arin. That night still stung him and he wasn’t over it, however, it didn’t mean it didn’t haunt Arin either. Ever since that sinful night, he felt guilty. Hell, guilty wasn’t even the right word to express his distaste for his actions. He betrayed his long-lasting love.

            The artist was jarred from his self-loathing when he felt the singer tugged at his arm, yanking him to the supply closet.


	3. “When Love and Hate Collide” – Def Leppard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG I LOVE YOU ALL FOR SUPPORTING ME AND MY WRITING AND I DECIDED TO CHANGE THINGS LAST MINUTE HOPE YOU LIKE  
> ((Also if the formatting is weird, I'm sorry; this computer sucks and I'll try and fix it later))

Dan shoved Arin harshly before slamming the door behind him.

Arin frantically glanced around for an opening to escape; cluttered half empty paint cans were stacked in no particular order along with rejected art projects kids didn’t want to bring home. Papers, card-stock, broken brushes, the closet had it all.

“D-Dan, what are you doing…?!” Arin stammered, his blush illuminating the dark room. “Dan,this is serious…! We can’t do thi-”  
            “Five years…”

Arin’s blood froze. His opposite’s voice chilled him to the core with dark vibrations.

            “W…What…?”  
            “Five years I’ve waited.” Buff brown eyes pierced the quivering soul. “Five years, dreaming, I thought I found a great love. Better than what I ever experience in all of my existence. And that bastard took you from me. I didn’t want to believe it was true; I knew you as very loyal and very attentive.”

            “Dan… I tried to tell you!” Arin shouted back with tears swelling, “Ross came back from visiting family back in Prague for a whole year! I…I wanted to see him again since we practically grew up together!” The music professor’s fists clenched tightly as Arin made clear of the situation. Just the sound of his name made his blood boil and his fury skyrocket. “I took him to a bar, yes, but as friends! You know I don’t drink that much or even at all anyway and I thought this would be a great way to catch up. We both were at fault; it wasn’t just his-”

            “His hands were all over you!” Dan growled, pinning the younger one against a paint splattered brick wall. “He fucked you all over our bed!” Strong yet callused hands forced Arin’s head to turn sideways, exposing his milky pale neck. Dan shoved his face in the crook, inhaling the art teacher’s musk mixed with the scents of ink and new paint bristles. He grunted, pleased that he no longer smelled like him. A hot tongue gradually dragged across Arin’s skin, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge when hearing the soft whimpers following after.  
  
            “L-Leigh~” Arin moaned hotly. He gripped onto his love’s shoulders, hoisting himself up so his knees wouldn’t buckle under him. Dan’s chest vibrated with gratification. Oh how he missed the soft coos his counterpart used to make.  
            “He didn’t satisfy you like I can, did he…?” Dan murred, his sharp canines grazing quivering skin.  
Arin couldn’t answer; his senses were overwhelmed with the ghostly touch of his ex-partner. With a tighter hold, he became breathy. He felt his groin react wildly, practically _begging_ for someone to touch it.  
            _“Answer me, Arin Hanson,”_ The dark rumble shook Arin’s body. “Answer me or else this is going to be a lot more difficult than it needs to be…”  
            “N-No…He didn’t…” Hues of pearly pinks and scarlet stained the younger counterpart’s cheeks. His breathes dragged; he tried to contain himself, telling his mind to continue to breathe or else he would pass out. The musty smell of old paints didn’t help his uneasy brain.  
            “That’s because you may have had chemistry with him, but you had history with me. And that made our chemistry stronger.”

            Dan looked over his love’s humiliated face. He took Arin’s wrists with one hand and pinned them over his head on the cold wall, his eyes drinking in the sight. It was like how he remembered back in the days of endless love and ignorant bliss. The artist’s hair was extremely disheveled from the tussle, his long locks with a single blonde streak cascaded carelessly on his shoulders.  
The choir teacher licked his lips, brown eyes ravenous with lust.

            Hands slithered through the soft fabric of Arin’s shirt. They gingerly traced the supple skin while his tongue explored more of Arin’s neck. The singer indulged on the sounds of labored breathes. He felt his groin react, his thick member hardening with excitement.

            “When _he_ touched you, did it spark fireworks in your mind~?”  
            “N-No…~”  
            “When _he_ kissed you, did your lips catch fire~?”  
            “D-Daniel please…I just-”  
            “When _he_ fucked you, did you feel ecstasy in your blood~?”

            Arin panted harder, choking on air when his counterpart grasped his erection. Dan toyed with it, leaving a trail of ghostly touches. The hot and bothered artist bucked his hips in hopes to create pleasurable friction. God, this whole thing was torture.

            Dan’s face lowered; he was face to face with Arin’s tight pants. The pulsing organ behind strained jeans yearned to be set free. With one skillful hand, Dan tugged the garments to the paint-stained ground, leaving only tented boxers.

            “What do you want me to do to you, _Mr. Hanson_ ~” The singer purred with sensuality dripping in his voice. “I want you to tell me~”

            Arin had no way of answering; the sexy glare his partner gave him froze him in his spot. The hot breath on the thin fabric that separated his sex and Dan’s face was eating him on the inside.  
            “I-I…I want-aaaaah~!” He moaned, his train of thought rudely interrupted by a searing wet muscle soaking his boxers. Dan chuckled, giving away one last lazily lick before studying the other’s face.  
            “Oh I’m sorry; I didn’t quite get that, Arin~”  
            “Dan please…~! Please j-just-”

 

            “Arin? Arin, are you in there?”

            A knuckle gently tapped on the main door to the classroom.


	4. “The Punishment of Lust” - Giovanni Segantini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Hey everyone. Um...so... I'm alive (yay).  
> Sorry for the super short chapter...! I've been super busy with life and depression and all that not so good stuff but I'm okay now! I wanted to give you all at least something so, here's YET ANOTHER cliffhanger...........
> 
> SORRYYYYY~

_No…! No! NO! Why now!?_

Arin’s mind went into a frivolous frenzy. Fear embedded in his eyes, he stared at his counterpart. Leigh had daggers glowing in his tired eyes. A quick hand sealed Arin’s mouth while another pulled him closer to Dan’s body. Arin tried to let a noise escape but was soon shushed when his ex-lover whispered in his ear:  
     “How about we play hide and seek…~?” The art teacher couldn’t even begin to question his rival before feeling long fingers snake down his front and reach under his pants.

 

     “Arin…? Are you in here?” Ross called out into the empty room. The windows were slightly ajar, letting in a cool breeze and bright sun to shed light in the dark. Cars slowly drove by, leaving a distant humming sound to break the silence.

 

     Dan roughly pushed Arin down onto the cold floor, forcing him on his knees. His hands vice-gripped brown and blonde locks, yanking them back so fearful brown eyes could stare back. A coy smile slowly spread across his lips. “Now, sit here and be a good boy~” He murmured low enough so his voice wouldn’t travel. “If you move, then…well, let’s not see what happens, hmm~?”  
Arin stiffly nodded, his eyes glued to watching whatever Leigh was doing. His heart was pounding recklessly against his rib cage, his ears ringing with the sound of blood pumping. The pent up sexual energy in the closet was driving him _to the brink of madness_.

So badly he wanted to run away. So desperately he wanted to run to Ross to be saved.  
Yet, so perilously he wanted to feel Dan’s love again.  
He knew his feelings for his ex-love never went away; the hardest part was not only facing him every single school morning, but to also swallow what could have been tears or memories that were blocked from his mind. Nights were lonely without his partner. If he could try and win him back in anyway, he was going to try, _damnit_ , especially after seeing a small flick of love in Dan’s eyes from earlier. He wasn’t going to let that fire die again. He knew Dan felt the same, because why would he go through all this trouble and fighting if he didn’t care for Arin?

     Arin was thrown out of his stream of consciousness when Dan quietly found a folding chair and placed it in front of the dumbfounded artist. The singer took a seat and spread his legs, his posture slumped. “My, my, Arin~” He whispered, fiddling with his belt quietly, yet efficiently. “I’m so proud of you for listening to me…~” With a swift tug, his black slacks revealed an aching and throbbing member. Dan’s thumb gently grazed the head before stroking himself, unhurriedly. If it wasn’t for the lights being off, Arin could have sworn there was some bizarre fog blocking his vision, maybe even see soft clouds of his heavy breaths escaping from his supple lips. A fist pressed up against the pent-up artist’s groin, trying to stop whatever excitement was happening to his body.  
    “Well~” Dan cooed, leaning down. His body towered over the other. “It ain’t gonna suck itself…~”

 

 _I could have sworn Arin said he would be in here…_  
Ross leaned against one of the middle art desks, tapping his finger along with the soft melodious sounds of birds singing to impress potential lovers and people laughing and talking both outside and in the halls.

    Sighing deeply, he fished for his phone in his pocket, fixing his rolled up red plaid shirt in the process. He received texts from his friend, asking to come by before his shift started so they could talk. There was no context to the messages, even when Ross pried to see what the problem was.

 _Is Arin planning a surprise for me…?_ Ross wondered. A loving smile rose on his pink lips; piercing blue eyes dazzled with the idea of a surprise. Sure, their relationship was a bit shifty and love was shown here and there, but nothing was ever official. Ross told Arin in many occasions that he was willing to wait whenever his friend felt ready to make something happen or if he wasn’t bold enough for that leap, he would be waiting on the other side patiently for him.

    _I do hope whatever Arin plans, it’s a real show-stopper!_


End file.
